Rhymes and Banana Cakes
by wingedflower
Summary: Some scenes describing how Hunk and Lance became friends on their first days at the Garrison.
1. Chapter 1

**I might add another part to it later. I mostly wrote it to cheer myself up after the season 8 finale.**

* * *

Of all the places Hunk had thought he'd find himself in at the end of his first week at the Galaxy Garrison, he definitely did not expect to be stuck in the bathroom, ten minutes before his first test ever in this school, clutching the rim of the toilet as if his life depended on it and puking his guts out.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Considering Hunk's chronic tendency to have panic attacks, and his stomach's tendency to have its own panic attacks during his panic attacks, and the fact that being a first-year cadet in the world's top space academy was one big, ongoing panic attack, Hunk had assumed he'd find himself kneeling and heaving into a toilet sooner or later.

He just… hoped it'd be later. Not on his first week here. Not before he had any chance to prove that he could be stronger, that he would _not_ completely lose it over a test, _one_ test, which barely even included any material because they hadn't learned that much in one week.

But seriously, who gives a test on the first week of school?!

 _Commander Iverson_ , Hunk recalled miserably. The mere thought of that man made his stomach flip again and his head dove into the toilet for another round.

Suddenly there was a knock on the cell's door, loud enough for Hunk to hear it over his gagging. "Hey, man, are you okay in there?" a voice asked, a boy's voice. Hunk was pretty sure he'd heard it before, but he had a hard time recognizing it through the haze of nausea.

"Look, I don't mean to interrupt… whatever you're doing in there," the boy continued, "but if you're not going to say anything, I'm going to kick this door open. I don't want to be held responsible when they find you passed out on the floor."

Hunk took several deep breaths and wiped his sweaty brow with an equally sweaty palm. "I'm okay," he croaked. "I… I'm actually done here. I think." He still felt like utter crap, but he was pretty sure he had nothing left to expel at this point.

"Oh. Okay," The boy said, taken aback. "Do you, um, need help or…?"

Hunk's cheeks warmed. "No, no, I can come out on my own," he blurted out. He stood up gingerly, making sure his wobbling legs were capable of carrying his weight, and flushed the toilet with a heavy sigh. Then he staggered out of the cell, only to come face-to-face with Lance McClaine, a first-year cadet like him who was in the Cargo Pilots major, and also one of his roommates.

Lance jerked back, his back hitting the sink behind him. " _Whoa_. Dude, no offense, but you look like shit."

Hunk laughed humorlessly. "None taken. I'm pretty sure I just got rid of everything I ate this week." He winced and walked to the sink to wash his face. The cold water felt amazing against his hot, clammy cheeks.

Lance narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "That's weird, the food here isn't _that_ bad. I mean, it's nothing like my mom's cooking, but it's eadible. Although the eggrolls they served for lunch today _did_ smell kinda funny… or maybe it's a stomach bug?" his eyes widened and he took a step aside. "Oh no, no-no-no-no- _no_ , you're _not_ going to make me catch your bug. I don't care if you sleep in the hallway or whatever, I'm _not_ going to get sick on the first week of school."

Hunk couldn't help but feel a little hurt. He could understand his roommate's fear of getting sick – after all, he was sleeping in the bed above Hunk's – but kicking him out of the room for that seemed a bit too much. Hunk didn't know Lance very well – none of them had much time to talk to each other during that first, exhausting, confusing week, as they were all more focused on not getting lost between classes and trying to get to the showers before lights-out, and once the were all in their rooms they all but collapsed into their beds and slumbered through their designated six-hours-of-sleep like logs. However, based on their short acquaintance, Lance struck him as an overall nice, easy-going guy; the one who'd offer you to use his toothpaste in case you've forgotten yours at home.

Hunk's feelings must have been written on his face, as Lance's eyes suddenly softened and he rubbed his neck sheepishly. "Urgh, sorry, that was uncalled for," he muttered. "It's not your fault for getting sick. I guess I'm just a little freaked out because of that test."

"I feel you," Hunk sighed. "I've been stuck here through all recess, freaking out into the toilet."

Lance's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, is _that_ why you're so sick? You're nervous about the test?"

Hunk flinched, feeling even more pathetic now that Lance voiced it out loud. "Um… yeah?" he said slowly, blushing again. "Sorry. I-I'm kind of a nervous guy."

"I can see that," Lance said. "But hey, come on, it's just one test. And it probably won't be too hard, either; we've barely learned anything yet."

"Somehow I doubt they're going to make our lives so easy here," Hunk said gloomily.

"Well, now you're making _me_ nervous!" Lance called in a high voice, blushing himself. Then, he groaned and shook his head. "Alright, that's enough. Hiding in this stinky toilet isn't going to help us pass the test, and recess is almost over. Let's just go to class and get this over with."

"Eh, I think I'll pass," Hunk said without thinking, too exhausted to be even surprised at himself.

Lance simply stared at him for a moment before saying, "Well, I guess you can call in sick – you sure _look_ sick – but you can't just _not_ take the test, you know. Iverson will probably make you take it some other time, so you better just do it now and put it behind you."

"No, I mean, I think I'll pass, like, _everything_ ," Hunk continued, realization dawning upon him and settling in his stomach like a heavy rock as he uttered the words. "This test, this class, this school… I just don't think I can do this. Not now, not ever."

"You don't actually mean that."

Hunk shook his head. "Look at me – I've been vomiting for twenty minutes straight because of one, small test, and we haven't even started simulations yet. How am I supposed to keep it together when classes get harder – and they _will_ get harder? I don't even like flying," he babbled desperately. "I got nauseous riding the _train_ here with my parents. Damn it, I have no idea what I'm doing here," he choked on the last sentence as traitorous tears started to burn in the corners of his eyes, and turned his head sharply to stare at the opposite wall. "This was a mistake. I _can't_ be a space engineer. I should just go back home and help my family with their restaurant."

A heavy silence hung between them as Hunk finished venting. Confessing all his insecurities to Lance didn't make him feel better at all. He felt hollow and wrung out, and all he wanted was to crawl into his bed – his _real_ bed, back in his childhood room – and fall asleep while his mother's large, soft hand stroked his bangs.

He expected Lance to mock him, or walk away instead of having to deal with this sudden burst of emotion. But the other boy simply sighed, placed his palm on Hunk's shoulder and said solemnly, "I suppose it can't be helped. Repeat after me."

Hunk blinked. "Huh?"

"Just do as I say, will you?" Lance said. "Now, repeat after me: _I'm awesome because my name is Hunk_."

Hunk blinked a few more times. He had no idea what Lance wanted from him. "Again, _huh?_ "

"I'll shove your head down the toilet again if you don't say it," Lance hissed.

Hunk gulped. He doubted Lance would really do that, but the thought was gross enough to make him cooperate. " _I'm awesome because my name is Hunk_ ," he said clumsily.

" _And if you disagree,_ " Lance continued, " _Go –_ wait," he paused for a second, thinking deeply, and then his face brightened and he said, " _And if you disagree, you're just a piece of junk._ "

Hunk couldn't hold back a snort of laughter. " _What?_ " he squawked. Damn, his roommate was _weird._

"Say it!" Lance commanded, which only made the situation more ridiculous.

"Alright, alright," Hunk muttered. " _And if you disagree, you're just a piece of junk,_ " he said, voice tight in attempt not to laugh. "Dude, what the hell?!"

Lance's face broke into a wide, goofy smile and he patted Hunk's shoulder. "It's just something my big brother Marco taught me," he said. "I was pretty nervous too when I studied for the entrance exams, so he made up this stupid rhyme and told me to say it whenever I felt like I was going to lose it. Believe it or not, it helped quite a lot." He snorted at the last sentence. "Ha! Another rhyme!"

Hunk wrinkled his forehead. "But you couldn't possibly say 'I'm awesome because my name is Hunk'."

"Ah, of course not. I had to make up a new rhyme for you. Mine was _way_ more stupid."

Hunk smirked. "Oh yeah? What was it?"

Lance cleared his throat and puffed his chest theatrically. " _I'm awesome because my name is Lance, and if you disagree, go crap your pants._ "

Hunk couldn't hold it anymore. He burst out laughing, practically _screeching_ with laughter, and had to hold onto the sink for support. Lance joined him almost immediately, and soon he was leaning on the wall in attempt to catch his breath.

"I… I'm not sure it even rhymes," Hunk wheezed.

Lance coughed several times into his fist. "Well, most of what Marco says is complete nonsense," he croaked, his own eyes shimmering with tears – of laughter, obviously. "He's a total goofball. But even this goofball could see how hard these exams were on me, and find a way to help me feel better." He tilted his head to the side. "You _do_ feel better now, don't you?"

And Hunk realized, to his immense surprise, that he did. His legs were still a tad unsteady and he was exhausted from panicking and vomiting, but his chest felt incredibly lighter than it did two minutes ago, and his mind was clear for the first time since the beginning of the week.

"I… I think so," he said slowly.

Lance smiled again. "Good. Now let's go and show them all just how awesome we are." His expression softened. "But hey, it's not just a dumb rhyme. You _are_ pretty awesome. I mean, you're in Engineering major! That must mean you're a mechanical genius or something."

Hunk rubbed his neck. "I wouldn't call myself a genius…"

"Then you're probably super smart anyway," Lance said enthusiastically. "Otherwise you wouldn't be here, right? So there isn't really any reason to freak out. You _deserve_ to be here, Hunk. You've worked hard for it, and you're not going to let one test to ruin it for you."

The sharp ring of the bell saved Hunk from providing a proper answer to this equally dramatic and comforting statement.

Lance put his hands on his hips. "Well, we should probably get going before Iverson sends us to detention. Are you coming?" he brought one arm forward, looking at Hunk expectantly.

Hunk stared at the outstretched arm for a moment, then brought his own arm and grabbed it. "Yes," he said softly. Going to class didn't sound so scary to him anymore.

-x-

It was about a week after his nervous breakdown in the bathroom when Hunk came back to his room one night, feeling nice and refreshed after a much-needed shower, and found Lance crouched on the floor next to the door, talking on the phone. They were only allowed to use their phones during the free hour they got before bedtime, so it wasn't an unusual sight – nearly all the cadets spent that time calling their families. Hunk did not know Lance for too long, but the two of them had started to hang out more after that first test (which went much better than Hunk had expected, and he even got one of the highest scores in class – not that he was going to brag or anything), and he had already learned that the other boy had a big family, and that he was extremely close to his parents and all of his siblings.

So Hunk only meant to wave at his roommate and then get to his bed and arrange his stuff for the night. He didn't expect Lance to raise his head and stare at him with red, swollen eyes, and a few thin streaks of tears evident on his cheeks.

Hunk froze in his place. "What happened?" he asked. Was something wrong with one of Lance's siblings? His stomach knotted in dread.

Lance shook his head and spoke into his phone again. " _Papá_ , I have to go, it's nearly lights-out. Thanks for telling me. _Buenas noches._ " He put the phone down and sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as if trying hard not to cry.

"Hey man, what's wrong?" Hunk sank to the floor next to his roommate. "Is your family alright?"

Lance released another long breath. "Yes, everyone's fine," he said thickly, and Hunk felt relief wash over him. "It's just…" his voice faded. "Nevermind. It's dumb. I don't even know why I'm crying at all," he rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

"Come on, you can tell me," Hunk said. "I'm sure it's not dumb, if it's making you so upset."

Lance gave him a sideways glance. "Promise you won't laugh at me."

Hunk quirked an eyebrow. "Dude, you've seen me spewing my guts out over a test, I don't think I have the right to ever laugh at you for anything."

Lance tried to smile at that, but he only managed a sad, half-smile that fell off in an instant. "My dad just told me our cat died," he said quietly.

Well, the death of a pet seemed to Hunk like a perfectly good reason to cry. "Oh, sorry to hear that," he said. "Was he an old cat?"

"We're not really sure about his age," Lance said. "And that's the thing – he wasn't even _our_ cat, not really. He was just this stray cat that started to hang around our yard a few years ago, and we'd give him food and such, be he'd never come into the house. I don't think he even liked us that much," he crossed his arms. "He probably just stayed for the food. He'd let my sister Veronica pet him from time to time, but if someone else tried, they'd get bitten." He huffed out a bitter laugh. "She sure liked to rub it in our faces."

"Wow, that cat sounds like an asshole," Hunk said and instantly flinched. "Sorry. Didn't mean to, um, speak ill of the dead."

"No, he _was_ an asshole," Lance said. "Marco gave him the name Whitey, because he was entirely black. He thought it was _hilarious_. And of course we all started to call him that since then. I guess," he pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them, "I guess I just… got used to having that cat around, you know? He wouldn't show us love, but he'd also never stray too far from the house. Like he _knew_ no one would take care of him better than us. And now he's gone, and the next time I come home, he won't be there, and it'll be weird and sad and _damn it_ ," he curled into himself even tighter, hands grabbing at his hair. " _Papá_ said _mamá_ was the one who found him. He was just lying in the bushes, completely still, and it was too late to do anything. He… he said she cried." His voice thickened again. "And I'm not there to comfort her, and it all just _sucks._ "

They sat in silence for a while, as Hunk looked for the right words to comfort his friend. But everything he came up with sounded lame and unhelpful. After all, it was hard to comfort someone who missed his family so bad when Hunk himself quietly cried himself to sleep thinking about his parents nearly every night since he got here.

Then, he had an idea.

"I have something that might make you feel better," he said and got on his feet. "Wait here." He opened the door to their room and walked straight to his bed, where he got on his knees and reached under it to pull out a small, neatly wrapped package. It was his mother's banana cake – she had sent it to him just this morning, and he had promised to himself he'd wait until night to open it and have a piece; but sharing it seemed a lot more fun than eating it alone, especially with someone who desperately needed a mood boost. Hunk strongly believed in the ability of a good meal to reach out to people when words failed; and besides, never in his life did he come across a problem that a piece from his mom's banana cake couldn't fix.

He carried the package back to Lance and sat near him. "I hope you like banana cakes, because my mom's are the best, and she sent me one just this morning." He unfolded the colorful napkin wrapping the cake and used the plastic knife that came with it to cut a large piece and handed it to Lance. "Here, help yourself."

"Don't mind if I do," Lance took a big bite. His eyes widened at once and he let out a satisfied hum. "Oh my god, man, this is _amazing!_ The best banana cake I've ever had, period." He raised his piece and sniffed it. "What did she put in there to make it taste so good?"

"Oh, a little bit of this, a little bit of that," Hunk said with an already full mouth. Lance was right; the cake was amazing, as always. "It's a secret recipe that runs in the family. I've made it several times, but it never tastes as good as when my mom makes it."

"I guess moms just have this magic flare," Lance licked some crumbs off his fingers. "Hey, I don't mean to be greedy or anything, but can I have another piece?"

"Of course! Here's the knife, take as much as you like."

"Thanks." Lance cut himself another sizable piece. "Do you parents serve this cake in their restaurant?"

"Well, it's not on the menu of the restaurant itself, but we do sell it on the small bakery that we have inside. It's the best selling cake there."

"Wow, you own a restaurant _and_ a bakery? That's so cool. Your family sounds really cool, Hunk."

Hunk blushed in spite of himself. "Um… yeah, I guess it's pretty cool… I mean, I'm a big fan of food, in case you hadn't noticed," he patted his belly. "We're a very small family – just me and my parents, no brothers or sisters, and I only have two cousins whom I barely see because they live far away. So as a kid I spent a lot of time helping my mom at the kitchen, and I just fell in love with it." He smiled fondly at the memory. "You know, it may sound funny, but I'm actually kind of bummed that our kitchen duties here only include washing the dishes and not actual cooking. Nothing calms my nerves like cooking."

"After what I've seen on my first kitchen duty, cooking in those dishes sounds like the most disgusting thing a person can do," Lance shuddered. "God, that curry pot… the _horror…_ "

"Dude! I'm still eating!" Hunk elbowed him, and Lance shrieked in laughter – which Hunk was delighted to hear, as any trace of his sorrow was gone for now.

"Sorry, sorry." Lance coughed, shoulders still shaking with laughter. "So, no brothers and sisters, and only two cousins? Man, that's so weird to imagine. I'm the fifth child in the family – I can't remember one time it _wasn't_ so crowd and loud in our home."

"Wait, let me see if I can remember all of your siblings," Hunk raised a hand and started to count on his fingers. "Luis is the oldest, and he has two kids… whose names I've forgotten."

"Sylvio and Nadia. Nadia's still very small, almost a baby. Okay, go on."

"And then there's Veronica, who is an officer here at the Garrison. Where did you say she was now?"

"She's doing an internship at a base on the other side of the state," Lance drooped in his place. "She'll only be back three months from now. But _she_ doesn't care – she said she was happy she wouldn't have to be here to babysit me." He scowled. "Typical."

"Okay, so after Veronica, there's Marco, who is in college and has the lamest sense of humor."

"You got that right," Lance said. "Alright, one sibling left!"

Hunk bent his last finger, but stopped mid-way, hesitating. "That would be… um… ah, damn it, I remember it's a girl and that she's in high school, but I can't remember her name!"

Lance chuckled. "That's Rachel, my youngest big sister. But hey, don't feel bad! You've only known me for two weeks and you already know my siblings' names better than some of my uncles and aunts. That's pretty impressive."

"I don't even want to know how many uncles and aunts you have," Hunk mumbled.

Lance patted Hunk's shoulder. "Yeah, that's a subject for another time." Then he yawned wholeheartedly and pressed his fists to his still-red eyes. "Phew, I'm _wrecked_. This was a loooong day."

Hunk hesitated. "But… do you feel better? Even a little?"

Lance put his hands down and blinked several times. "I think so," he said. "I mean, I'm still pretty sad about Whitey, that selfish bastard, making me weep over him like that… but maybe a little less sad than before?" he burped and his cheeks pinkened. "Guess you can't stay too upset after eating such a delicious cake."

Hunk grinned. "Good. I'm glad."

"But oh no, we finished nearly half of it," Lance looked sorrowfully at the napkin on Hunk's lap. "I'm sorry. You probably wanted to save it for a while."

"Nonsense. Sharing is always better anyway," Hunk said sincerely.

Lance finally grinned back. "Thanks, Hunk. You're a really good guy. And if anyone ever lets you feel otherwise," he waved a finger, "They're – say it…"

Hunk rolled his eyes, although his grin only grew. "Just a piece of junk," he sing-sang. "Come on, let's brush our teeth and get to bed. And don't you _dare_ to oversleep again because I'm done kicking your ass out of bed so we won't be late for roll call."

Lance pouted. "Remember when I said you were a good guy? I might take that back."

"Then no more cakes for you," Hunk said and helped him to a stand.

"Well played, my friend, well played _._ "

Hunk could keep bantering like this all night, but he was quite exhausted himself, and besides, he had a warm feeling the two of them were going to have plenty of banters in the months and maybe even years to come.

This night he didn't cry himself to sleep and also not on the nights after that. Only a week ago he was sure he wouldn't be able to handle the pressure and drop out of school before the semester ends; but now that he had a friend to share snacks, laughs and stories with, he started to honestly believe that he could do this.

* * *

 **I don't remember if they said on the show what Hunk's parents do for a living, but I didn't have the energy to check lol (also, can't really re-watch episodes now as I'm still so pissed off about that ending), so I just went with the restaruant thing.**

 **Please leave a comment if you liked it!**


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter contains some strong language, violence, and hurt!Lance. Yippee!**

* * *

" _You!_ " Michele Sarratore, one of Hunk's classmates and a somewhat unpleasant fellow – as big and bulky as a bear, with more or less the same complexion and personality of a hungry one – stomped out of his spacecraft and waved his fist at Hunk, who was crouched with his palms planted on his knees, taking long breaths through his nose and trying very hard not to pass out. "What the hell's wrong with you?! We were airborne for less than a minute before you screwed up everything! You're going to make us all fail!"

Hunk wanted to answer, but he was still too queasy to trust himself to open his mouth. Besides, Michele had a point. Hunk _did_ screw up the simulation. It was supposed to be a simple drill – they were divided into groups of eight, and each group had to keep its formation in changing elevations for five minutes. However, when Hunk's group's turn came, his stomach apparently decided it rather stay on the ground, as the second they took off it started to do cartwheels that left Hunk dizzy and unable to focus at anything. He tried his best to keep it together, but quickly lost the fight as his breakfast made a re-appearance all over the controls and his spacecraft plummeted through the virtual sky, hitting two other spacecrafts on its way down and literally shattering the entire formation. Needless to say, Iverson called off the simulation immediately, his screams ringing in Hunk's ears as he stumbled out of his ship into the hall.

Michele stepped closer, hands on his hips, and leaned forward so his face was nearly touching Hunk's. "Well?" he demanded. "Aren't you going to say anything? You should at least apologize for ruining it for everyone!"

"Hey, man, lay off him," Lance, who was waiting with his group to take the next round, stepped forward. "It's not his fault he's sick, and yelling at him isn't going to make it better."

Michele quirked a hairy eyebrow and snored. "Oh, how _adorable_ , the cargo pilot from Cuba is jumping to protect his boyfriend. I bet you're going to crash your ship as well."

Lance's cheeks flushed, and Hunk knew it wasn't due to the mention of his Cuban heritage or the fact Michele referred to Hunk as his 'boyfriend' (and seriously, _who_ even told jokes like that anymore? It was even more embarrassing than Hunk's piloting skills). But Hunk knew how bad Lance wanted to be a fighter pilot, and the fact he had only made it to the cargo major was a constant, stinging wound to his pride. Hunk was certain that being reminded of that by Michele Sarratore, who _was_ a fighter pilot – and a pretty decent one, despite his terrible attitude – only deepened that wound.

"Well look who's talking!" Lance blurted out. " _You_ turned your ship right when Iverson said to bank left! Everybody saw it!"

Now Michele's face was the one to turn crimson and Hunk's heart sank, knowing this would _not_ end well if someone didn't interfere. "Guys, please stop fighting," he said weakly. "I… I'm sorry for messing up the simulation. I promise I'll do better next time."

"Oh, will you," Michele taunted and crossed his arms. "Then maybe you should stop eating so much before drills, _fatass._ "

" _What_ did you say?!" Lance shrieked took one more step toward Michele, his fist raised.

"Cadets, that is _enough!_ " Iverson's voice boomed over their heads and they all flinched – even Michele – when the commander burst out of the control room, his one good eye flickering furiously. "Not only are you unable to complete a simple drill, you are also still standing here squabbling like a couple of schoolboys! Do I need to remind you where you are?!"

"But sir – " Lance started, by Iverson gave him such a look he promptly shut his mouth and lowered his gaze to the floor.

"You," he turned to Michele, who froze in his place. "You better watch your mouth, cadet. Even if you become the top pilot in your class, that title will worth nothing if you can't treat your fellow pilots decently. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Michele muttered, although he gave Lance another murderous glare when Iverson turned to Hunk.

"And you," he said, and although his expression was as cold as always, Hunk could have sworn – or maybe it was just his imagination – that a glint of emotion (Pity? Empathy? Nah, it was _definitely_ his imagination) – crossed his face for a split second. "Go clean the mess you've made so we can continue with the simulations. These aircrafts are military property, and they cost way too much to be stained by the vomit of reckless cadets!"

Hunk gulped. "Yes, sir," he whispered and dragged his feet out of the hall, trying his best to ignore the stares and giggles and hoping he'd find a nearby supply closet. Maybe he could crawl inside and hide there until the end of the semester.

"Um, sir, may I go help him?" He heard Lance say, and his heart swelled despite his lousy mood. It was nice to have someone to have his back, even if he seemed to be the only one around this place.

"Permission granted," Iverson barked and Lance popped up at Hunk's side in an instant, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"You alright?" he asked quietly, and Hunk knew he didn't only mean his stomach.

Hunk shrugged. "I'll manage," he said tiredly. "It's not like it's the first time someone calls me a fatass." He thought about his years at elementary school and nearly shuddered at the memory.

"That doesn't make it okay," Lance insisted. "Seriously, this guy is the _worst._ How did he even get into the Garrison?! You have to go through three interviews! What did he do, knocked their heads against the wall until they agreed to admit him?"

"I bet this is exactly what happened," Hunk said gloomily. "But… Michele had a point, even if he could have put it… kindlier. I _did_ screw up miserably." He looked at his feet as they kept walking. "Maybe I should just – "

"Ah, no, we are _not_ having this conversation again," Lance passed Hunk and stood right in front of him, his hands grabbing both of his friend's shoulders. "You are _not_ threatening to quit again. Come on, dude, it was just one simulation. You'll get better. Besides, Veronica told me _everybody_ screws up their first simulations. None of the officers really expects us to do well at this point."

Hunk glanced sideways. "But nobody else puked on the controls yet…"

Lance sighed. "Well, what can I say, my friend, your stomach is definitely something special." He grinned mischievously. "Hey, how awesome would it be if you held it until Michele stepped out of his ship and puked on his pants? _That_ would've showed him!"

"Are you insane? He would've killed me on the spot."

"That bastard," Lance hissed. "Thinking he's better than everyone else… If only Iverson weren't there…" his right hand clenched into a fist and he rubbed it against his left palm. Hunk contemplated noting that, considering Lance's size, Michele would have probably flattened him like a pancake, but eventually decided to keep this thought to himself.

"Look, a supply closet," he said and pointed at the wall ahead of them. "Let's grab some rags and get this over with before Iverson can think of more reasons to yell at us."

However, when the two of them came back to class with the cleaning supplies, one look from Michele – who was now leaning against the wall, watching the class silently – was enough for Hunk's stomach to knot again, and he had a foreboding feeling that this was far from over.

-x-

Hunk's fears were realized the next day.

He was sitting on a bench at one of the Garrison's many yards during his dinner break. Lance had gone to talk to Alison Green at the other side of the yard – he had promised Hunk he would convince her to go on a date with him before break was over – and Hunk was pretty bored by himself, so he drew the recipe of his mom's banana cake out of his shirt pocket and read it for about the hundredth time. His parents had added the recipe to the last package they sent him, and although Hunk was not allowed to bake anything at the academy's kitchens, just looking at the recipe – written in his mother's round, clean handwriting – was enough to give him some sense of home, and he carried it around in his uniform pocket so he could take it out and read it whenever he had a few minutes to himself. The small piece of paper was already wrinkled and worn out at the edges, but Hunk didn't mind.

A shadow towered over him all of a sudden, and before he could respond, the paper was snatched from his grip. He looked up and saw Michele, who held the paper high between thumb and finger, his face twisted in mockery.

"Oh, you've _got_ to be kidding me," he said, eyes flickering in sick delight. "I already knew you were a wuss, but going around with _mommy's_ cake recipe in your pocket? What, do you sleep with it under your pillow, too?"

"Um," was all Hunk could say. Sweat prickled his skin. He had never been great at dealing with bullies despite his size and the strength in his arms, which he earned thanks to years of carrying heavy boxes to and from his parents' restaurant and tinkering with his dad's car at weekends. He simply preferred to use his hands to create things or fix them, not to break other people's noses.

"What?" Michele snickered and crossed his arms, the paper still trapped between his fingers. "You _do_ sleep with it, don't you? Think it'll help you do better in class? Well, I hate to break it to you, but even your mommy can't save you from sucking so much."

"Can you please give me my note back," Hunk mumbled, his mouth dry. He glanced here and then, but the yard was pretty empty and the few students who hung around didn't seem to notice he was in trouble.

"Why, so you can sneak into the kitchen at night and make that cake?" Michele laughed at his own joke – a cruel, grating sound that made the hairs on Hunk's neck stand. "Is that what you do when everybody else is asleep? No wonder you're so fat. But hey, I can help you." And just like that, he brought his other hand and tore the paper into tiny pieces, and let them fall to the ground next to Hunk's shoes. "There. I just did you a huge favor, bro."

"What's going on here?" a familiar voice was heard. Hunk tore his eyes from the destroyed remnants of his mom's recipe and saw Lance, who stood right in front of Michele, hands on his hips. Either his flirting efforts had fallen flat or he had simply noticed Michele was taunting Hunk and rushed to help; either way, Hunk was both grateful and anxious about his presence.

Michele, on the other hand, seemed even more pleased with himself. "Aw, look, your boyfriend came to your rescue again. How sweet. Tell me, do you join him at the kitchen at nights? Is this where you two are going to make out?"

Lance sighed exasperatedly. "You do realize nobody else thinks this joke is funny, right?"

A vein in Michele's forehead worked and Hunk would have opened his mouth to warn Lance if he weren't so paralyzed with fear.

"Maybe you just don't understand the joke," Michele hissed. "Like how you don't understand anything we learn in class."

"Listen, dude," Lance rolled his eyes and stepped closer, to Hunk's dismay, "Mocking other people and calling them names isn't going to make you look better, so why don't you just leave us alone and go be in ass somewhere else?"

"Or what, you'll rat on me? Go tell Iverson that big, bad Michele is being mean to you?" Michele asked in an overly sweet voice. "If you can't take it like a man, then maybe shouldn't be here at all. This is a military base, not a kindergarten."

"Oh, right, because you're _such_ a man," Lance retorted. "You're so manly that last night I heard you cry to your mom in the shower, _mommy, the uniform gives me a rash and the quartermaster won't give me a new set and it huuuurts, boo-hoo!_ "

The next few seconds happened so fast, that when Hunk tried later to restore them, he realized his mind was totally blank; as if he refused to believe they had actually happened. All he knew was that one moment Michele and Lance were both standing and glaring furiously at each other, and the next one Lance was lying sprawled on the ground, his eyes shut tightly and blood coating his temple, and Michele was towering over him, his fist raised and wrapped around a large rock he had apparently picked from the gravel.

For one terrible second, no one spoke or moved. Even Michele seemed to be frozen in shock, staring at Lance's still body with wide eyes as if he didn't understand how he had gotten there.

And then Hunk screamed.

" _Lance!_ " he fell to his knees and bent over his friend, not sure if he should try to move or even touch him at all. They hadn't had their first aid classes yet, and the very little Hunk knew about head injuries from books or tv shows seemed to have vanished from his memory, as all he could think of was the painful pounding in his ears.

"Lance, please, open your eyes," Hunk begged, hot tears stinging his own eyes. But Lance remained silent and unresponsive, his face slack and the blood shining a sickening, bright red against his tanned skin. Hunk was vaguely aware of the crowd of curious students that started to gather around them. He hoped with all his might that at least one of them would be wise enough to call an officer, a medic, _anyone_.

He raised his eyes to Michele and glared at him with such hatred it made his whole body burn. "If… if anything happens to him," he said, the words like poison on his tongue, "I will fucking _kill_ you, you son of a bitch."

"I…" Michele's voice trailed off. He kept staring blankly at Lance for a few moments, and then at the blood-coated rock in his hand, as if he had difficulty to connect the two. He didn't look so confident anymore. He looked more like a frightened child.

"Cadets, what is going on?" an adult, authoritative voice was heard and Hunk nearly cried from relief. A female officer whom he did not recognize pushed her way through the whispering students, freezing in her place as she took in the sight of Lance and Michele, who still held the rock as if it was glued to his hand. "What happened here?" she demanded.

"He hit him with this rock, ma'am," one of the students said quickly.

"He's been unconscious for about two minutes," another one added. "He won't wake up."

The officer frowned and turned to the last student who spoke. "You, run to the infirmary and tell the medics to come here immediately. Make sure to tell them a head injury is involved. And you," she turned back to Michele, her eyes narrowing, "Come to my office, _now._ "

Michele finally lowered his arm, drooping in his place like a balloon that had all its air knocked out of it. All he managed was a tiny, pitiful nod.

The officer finally looked down at Hunk, and waited a moment before saying in a milder voice, "Watch your friend until the medics arrive. Do _not_ try to move him on your own. Once they take him, come to my office as well. Building D, room 3A, first floor."

"Yes ma'am," Hunk managed to croak through the lump in his throat. The officer gave him a curt nod and beckoned Michele to follow her, which he did, dragging his heavy feet and looking at the ground. All Hunk could do was watch them walk away and wait.

"Just hang in there," he whispered to Lance, no longer trying to stop the tears that trickled freely down his cheeks and not caring there were still people watching. " _Please._ "

-x-

The next morning, Hunk skipped breakfast to go straight to the infirmary, more than ready to bang on the door and _demand_ they let him see Lance, which they hadn't yesterday. All the doctor had said to him last night as he stepped out to the hallway – having realized Hunk would stay there all night if he didn't hear some sort of update on his friend – was that Lance had most likely suffered a mild concussion, and that he needed to spend the night at the infirmary for observation, and that he should _not_ , under _any_ circumstances, be disturbed.

That hadn't soothed Hunk the slightest bit, and he had spent the night lying awake in his bed, staring at the empty bunk above him and running all kinds of worst-case scenarios in his head. Lance was his best friend – his _only_ friend at the Garriosn, actually. And people who suffered head injuries did not always bounce back, did not always come back to themselves. Sometimes they woke up – _if_ they woke up – and they were… _different._ Hunk's face had crumpled at the thought, and he had barely managed to swallow back a sob.

He had been so nervous he had lost the ability to eat, so when his alarm clock rang – not that it mattered as he hadn't slept a wink – he got dressed as fast as he could and made a beeline to the infirmary, praying for some good news before he had to go to his morning class.

However, he didn't have to knock on the door as the second he got there it opened and a tall, short-haired officer came out. One look at her ocean-blue eyes, framed by a pair of glasses and mocha-toned skin was enough for Hunk to know this was Veronica, Lance's older sister.

"How's Lance?" he blurted out, then blushed deeply as Lance's sister or not, this was still a Garrison officer and he should have at least given her a salute.

But Veronica didn't seem to care. The dark bags under her eyes were a clear proof she's also been awake all night. She was still in the middle of her internship; she had probably flown here the second she got the message about her brother's injury.

She examined him from head to toe. "You're Hunk?" she asked. Her voice was quite pleasant, albeit rough from lack of sleep.

Hunk nodded. "And you must be Veronica," he said. "Ma'am," he added after a short consideration.

Veronica's expression softened, which made her look even more like her brother. "Lance is fine," she said. "He had a concussion, but it wasn't too bad and it already wore off through the night. They gave him some stitches, and he needs to rest a lot and avoid unnecessary effort during the next few weeks, so no exams or cardio for him until further notice." She smirked. "He wasn't too upset about _that._ "

"Oh. Okay." Hunk's legs went weak with relief and he had to lean against the wall for support. Lance was fine. He was going to be _fine._

"You can go inside if you want," Veronica continued. "He's awake. He'll definitely be happy to see you."

Hunk nodded again, so enthusiastically it made him dizzy. "Are you going back to your internship now?"

Veronica sighed. "No, they let me stay here until tomorrow evening, you know, to make sure Lance is okay. And to calm down my family," she added, somewhat wearily. "My mom has already threatened to catch the first plane here; I need to call her and tell her there's no need."

"I'll tell Lance to call your parents too," Hunk suggested. "It'll probably be good for them to hear from him."

"That's a great idea." Veronica tilted her head to the side. "So… you're Lance's best friend, right?"

"He said that about me?" For a brief second Hunk's face broke into a huge, dumb smile, but then he coughed and looked at the ceiling, ears burning. "I mean, yeah, we-we're friends, sure."

Veronica opened her mouth but then closed it and shook her head, lingering for a long minute before speaking again. "Just… keep an eye on him, okay?" she said quietly. "Make sure he doesn't get into more trouble."

"Ah, sure." Hunk said timidly. Then he puffed his chest and said in a slightly stronger voice, "Don't worry. I'll watch his back, just like he watches mine."

Veronica finally smiled. "Good. Well, I'm going to call my parents. I would've gone look for this Sarratore guy, to give him a piece of my mind," her fists clenched at her sides, "But I suppose he's already packing his bags, so I won't waste my time on him."

Michele Sarratore has been expelled from the Garrison shortly after Hunk and some of the other students who witnessed him attacking Lance gave their versions of the event. Commander Iverson had gathered all of the first-year cadets during their free before-bed hour last night, announcing that the Garrison had a zero tolerance approach to violence. For once in his life, Hunk was grateful for the man's blunt style, as none of the students seemed too keen about so much as pinching a fellow student once his speech ended.

"Yep, it's a good thing that guy is gone," Hunk said. "He definitely deserved it, the piece of shit – oops, sorry," he nearly choked. Wow, the lack of breakfast did _not_ do him any good. He wondered if he had time to grab an energy bar before class.

Veronica's smile did not falter though. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear anything, _cadet_ ," she said, and the knot in Hunk's chest loosened a bit. "Now go see my brother before he decides to leave his bed and look for you himself." And with that she walked away, disappearing behind a corner in the hallway.

Hunk inhaled deeply and pushed the infirmary's door open, a small bubble of anxiety still swimming in his guts even though Veronica has just told him everything was alright.

Lance appeared to be the only occupant of the infirmary, save for a sullen-looking nurse who sat at the reception desk, and cast Hunk one uninterested glance before going back to her papers. She probably recognized him as the hysterical boy from last night.

"Hey!" Lance called and waved from the bed near the window, where he sat upright – Hunk breathed in relief – wearing the white t-shirt they all wore under their uniforms and a pair of shorts Veronica must have fetched for him from his room. His head was wrapped in a thick gauze that covered his entire forehead, but he grinned brightly at his friend nevertheless. "Man, I'm so glad to see you. They're only going to discharge me at lunch and I've been _sooo_ bored."

"Wasn't your sister here, like, a minute ago?" Hunk walked to the bed and plopped on a nearby chair. Now that he saw Lance awake and babbling as usual, the adrenaline from rolling in his bed with worry all night started to wear off quickly and he couldn't help but eye the huge box of chocolate bars that stood on Lance's bedside table. After all, he hasn't eaten anything since yesterday.

Lance sighed. "Yeah, but now she's gone and Nurse Grumpypants here doesn't want to talk to me because I need to _rest._ " He pouted at the direction of the reception desk. "But hey, at least I have these chocolates Veronica brought me."

"Mind if I take one?" Hunk asked just as his stomach made a rumbling noise and he blushed. "Or more than one?"

Lance made a dismissive gesture and Hunk gratefully took a bar and tore off the paper. "So, how're you feeling?" he asked with his mouth full.

Lance leaned back on his pillow, arms folded under his head. "Fine, I guess. Head hurts a little, but if it gets really bad I have some painkillers I can take." He drew a small bottle from the pocket of his shorts and shook it, making the pills inside rattle. "And I'm not supposed to do anything today except for sleep, so you're _not_ allowed to kick me out of bed."

"Must be a dream come true," Hunk said. "Did you hear that Michele was expelled from school?"

To Hunk's surprise, Lance didn't seem as delighted as he had assumed he'd be at the news. "Yeah. Veronica told me. I don't know… I kind of feel guilty." his shoulders drooped slightly.

" _Guilty?_ Lance, that guy has bullied us nonstop and then _smashed your head with a rock_! The last thing he deserves is to get to stay here and keep terrorizing everyone. If you ask me, he should be in juvenile."

Lance shrugged. "I know. You're right. But still… there must be a reason he's like that. Maybe he's having a bad time at home? I mean, when I mentioned his rash, I kinda felt like I hit a sore spot – literally. Maybe I shouldn't have said it out loud like that."

"Fine, but does that mean he should've hit you? Instead of talking and sorting things out like normal people do? Everybody has their issues, Lance, that doesn't mean we can just go and take it out on other people. And besides, he started it by insulting us and calling us names."

Lance scowled. "Damn it, I can't think of anything to say because my head's a mess!"

"Or, because you know I'm right." Hunk crossed his arms. "Look, you know me. I'm all for peace-and-love-and-let's-all-talk-about-it-over-dinner-and-be-best-friends-forever. But… it doesn't work with all people. The second he used violence, the second he… _hurt_ you," Hunk's lip trembled and he bit hard on it, "He lost the right to be reasoned with, in my opinion."

Lance's eyes widened. "Whoa, dude, that was probably the harshest, most badass thing I've ever heard you tell me you used that anger to punch Michele after he knocked me out."

Hunk stared at his lap. "More like panicked and cried… but I did call him a son of a bitch."

" _Hunk!_ "

"And threatened to kill him if anything happened to you."

Lance threw his head back and laughed, but then grimaced as the movement aggravated his injury. "Oh my god, I can't believe I was unconscious through this. This is the best day of my life. "

"Is it? Because it was probably the worst day of mine." Hunk looked back at Lance, his eyes moist. "I was _terrified_ , man. I-I didn't even know if you'd wake up. I really appreciate that you stood up for me, both yesterday and at the simulation, but you getting hurt because of that sucked _so_ much and I don't want you to do this ever again."

Lance smiled shakily. "Jeez, can you be more dramatic?"

"Lance, I'm serious!" Hunk flared. That guy was unbelievable. Couldn't he see Hunk was trying to have a bonding moment here?!

Lance rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll try not to get on nasty bullies' nerves anymore. Bleh. You sound like my sister."

"Oh yeah, she did tell me to make sure you don't get into trouble."

Lance groaned. "Typical. My mom will probably say the same thing."

Hunk peeled the paper off his fourth chocolate bar. "You better call her before she gets here and grab Iverson by the ear."

"I actually kind of want to see that," Lance said and took out his phone. "Fine, I'll call home after you go."

"But," Hunk continued, "I bet she's also going to tell you how much she's proud of you, for being a good friend and standing up for what is right."

"Aw, thanks, man." Lance looked quite flustered at the compliment, and quickly put up another cocky grin. "Hey, do you think Alison Green will agree to go on a date with me now that I have a battle scar? I mean, chicks dig those kinds of things."

"Sure. Especially with that giant chocolate stain you have on your shirt, chicks dig that too," Hunk pointed with his chin at Lance's chest, and Lance looked down and cried in dismay.

"Fuck! I only wore it yesterday!" he glared at Hunk, whose shoulders shook in silent laughter. "Stop that! You just said how brave and awesome and good-looking I was!"

"I'm pretty sure I didn't use any of these words," Hunk said peacefully. "Maybe they should check your hearing, too."

Lance narrowed his eyes. "This conversation is making my headache worse and it's all your fault. If I get nauseous at my sleep, I'll puke on _your_ bed."

"You're disgusting," Hunk got up and tossed all the candy papers into the trash can. "Now call your family, I have to go to class."

"No fun," Lance whined. "See you at lunch?"

"See you."

As Hunk walked across the hallway, his belly full of chocolate (which he would probably regret in an hour or so) and his heart light, he couldn't help but feel weirdly fortunate. Although he just had the scariest day of his life, he couldn't think of any person other than Lance he'd like to go through something like this. It wasn't like he was glad his friend got a concussion; but hey, some people were worth getting a concussion for. And these people were definitely going to get a whole banana cake once they were out of the hospital, if Hunk had any say in it.

* * *

 **If you enjoyed this completely pointless, self-indulgent fluff, I'd appreciate it if you leave a review!**


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